


Mary

by PlayingChello



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Death, Other, back story, there's not a lot to tag, um
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-20
Updated: 2015-10-20
Packaged: 2018-04-27 07:39:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5039722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlayingChello/pseuds/PlayingChello
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It took them a while to settle on a name. But when Arkham put forth an idea, Kalina Ann fell in love with it. It was perfect. And so she was named.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mary

**Author's Note:**

> I had a need to describe what happened here. I'm sorry.

It took them a while to settle on a name. But when Arkham put forth an idea, Kalina Ann fell in love with it. It was perfect. And so she was named.

Mary.

She was perfect.

When she was four, her mother taught her to do her hair. She loved playing with her mother’s long black hair and grew hers to match. She spent ages braiding her hair just to undo it and start again. She worked to make it perfect and bounced into her parents’ room when she felt it was. She’d never forget the beaming smiles on their faces when she showed off her perfectly constructed braid. And her mother even asked for one of her own.

She loved her eyes. It was the only thing she really got from her father. She has her mother’s hair, her nose, her face. But those eyes. So strange. They’re from her father. One eye sea blue, clear and beautiful. And the other, a deep, strange red. Almost scary. But Mary loved them, a gift from her father.

She grew up in a house with three languages flying at mile a minute speeds off tongues used to speaking all of them. One minute, her mother singing something in English, before going off with harsh words in Korean because she dropped a pan. Her father tended to initiate French, but her mother would respond with kind words, words of love. She liked those moments best. French became her language of affection, of love.

Around ten, she started noticing strange books lying around her father’s study. Books in languages not even she understood. And at ten and trilingual, she thought she knew just about every language. But she didn’t know that one. Or more than one, she couldn’t even tell.

She asked him one day, if he’d teach her to read those books, teach her that language. And all he said was, “Maybe when you’re older, Mary.” And she believed him.

She never saw it coming.

Fourteen. That’s how old she was. When her mother was butchered in front of her. When her father went from being her role model to being a criminal. When she earned her scar. All she wanted was to protect her mother, the woman that showed her all the love in the world, from the terror her father had become.

The knife sliced right across her nose, made her recoil enough that she was out of the way for the knife to tear into her mother. When her father’s hand came back, knife in his fist, it clipped her and knocked her out. She missed the worst of it, she supposes, but that doesn’t change anything. Because she woke up in a pool of blood, her mother lifeless beside her.

All she could do was cry.

It changed her. Of course it did. She hated the man she called father. The man that raised her, that gave her her _name_.

So she forsook it.

The only person she would let her call her by that name was already dead. So, too, was her name. She became nameless. Nameless and determined. Determined to take revenge on the monster that destroyed everything she loved.

So she trained.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/playingchello)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Mary](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5195087) by [Faswlya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faswlya/pseuds/Faswlya)




End file.
